


Tail Between Legs

by Blackpenny



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8450470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackpenny/pseuds/Blackpenny
Summary: There isn't a lot of Mickey Doyle fan fiction, so here goes. This takes place right after the terrifying scene when Richard Harrow drags Mickey to Nucky's office. I find Mickey weirdly likable when he isn't talking, so I gave him a break.





	

Once Mickey Doyle has a door between him and that crazy bastard in the mask he scuttles for the elevators with all the speed he can muster, rearing back at the last second with a ridiculous pinwheel of his arms. No, not the elevator! It could be crammed with people and he can’t be seen now, not like this. Mickey glances around, the epitome of shifty, spots the stairwell door, and quietly slips though. Eight floors is a long way down, but it allows him to collect himself and count his blessings. 

Blessing 1. He’s still alive. Holy Mary, mother of god. How the fuck is he still alive?

(Breathe. Just breathe.)

Blessing 2. He didn’t soil his trousers, at least not beyond a little squirt of urine. Hardly noticeable.

(Good. Your pulse isn’t pounding in your head quite so bad. That’s good.)

Blessing 3. He didn’t burst out bawling in front of Nucky. There may have been a few tears, but Nucky was too busy with Tin Face to notice. Mickey is sure of that. Pretty sure. In any case, Nucky didn’t seem too disgusted, not much more so than usual.

(The tightness in the throat is better. Kind of.)

Blessing 4. Tin Face – Harrow – seemed to calm right down once he admitted the truth.

(Take a deep breath. That’s good. Slow it down.)

Blessing 5. The girl got away. The thought of dealing with a murder in his apartment makes Mickey want to vomit. It’s not like he hasn’t seen plenty of gruesome death, but in your own place, where you sleep and heat up your soup? No thank you. Besides, the idea of a dame witnessing all of his his, um, reaction to Harrow makes him cringe.

(Christ, he has to piss so bad right now. Fuck it.)

Mickey unzips his fly and lets go right there on the second floor landing. Be damned if he’s going to wander around looking for the gents’.

Blessing 6. His bladder is no longer aching like it’s going to explode.

The lobby is too busy for anyone to spare him a second glance and soon Mickey is on the street, eyes glassy, head held high in his best impression of someone who knows where he’s going. 

And before he knows it, Mickey is back at his own building. He climbs the stairs and spots light under the door. Shit. Was the light on when they left? He tiptoes to the door and listens. There’s somebody in there. Shit! Of course he doesn’t have a gun. Shit, shit, shit. What if it’s Harrow? What if it’s the cops? 

But wait a second. Harrow was still with Nucky, right? And if Harrow wanted him dead, he’d be dead. And cops don’t pad around, they smash or they lie in wait. Mickey listens at the door for a second, then walks a few paces up and down the hall. Finally, he raps smartly on his own door and waits. Hurried footsteps, a small rattle,the door opens.

“Mickey! Thank god”

The door opens wide and Mickey founds himself grabbed in a tight embrace and dragged inside.

“Lala? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, god, I was so scared. I ran out and I hid and watched that scary guy take you away. I was going to call the cops but I thought that might make it worse…” Lala shrugs apologically. She knows what he does. Lala hasn’t dated a guy without a record since junior high.

“That was smart, kiddo.”

“The door wasn’t locked so I came back in to wait. I was going to wait two hours and then call Mr. Thompson.”

Ah, so she knows about Nucky. Of course she does.

“It’s okay, sugar. Mr. Thompson knows. It was all just a mix-up.”

Lala smiles broadly. She really does have the cutest smile.

“Gosh, you’re brave. That guy was so scary! I was so petrified I could hardly think.”

Mickey knows that feeling all too well, but he grins as if this kind of thing happens all the time. He notices that the bottle he brought for them to share hasn’t been touched. God damn, she is so cute and round and ripe and he can see right down her dress…

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Lala is suddenly shy. “So I guess I should go, since it’s so late.”

And suddenly all Mickey wants is get out of clothes that stink of fear sweat and clutch at her lush body and listen to that voice say silly, sweet things all night. Lala is talking about calling a taxi but her voice trails off when she sees the look in his eyes.

They leave a trail of shoes, trousers, dress, shirt, undergarments and hit Mickey’s bed with an awkward lurch clutching at each other, clutching at life, keeping the world at bay until dawn.


End file.
